


Connection

by sapphire_child



Series: Charlie/Claire 50 Darkfics (Livejournal) [13]
Category: Lost
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Grieving, Kissing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-10
Updated: 2007-03-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 05:10:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12314391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire_child/pseuds/sapphire_child
Summary: A sudden death leads her to fill the voidhe’sleft behind. Eventually she will realise that finding a replacement forhislove is impossible. Eventually.





	Connection

**Author's Note:**

> I claimed Charlie and Claire over on [](https://50-darkfics.livejournal.com/profile)[**50_darkfics**](https://50-darkfics.livejournal.com/)  
>  **Prompt:** 93\. Voice  
> 

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/155122168@N03/36942521220/in/album-72157686884668124/)

The first time, he didn’t even say anything. He was simply there for her, a silent sentinel as she poured out all the pain in her soul. When she had exhausted herself with tears he folded her into his arms awkwardly and told her he was sorry.

She clung to him that day in a way that she knew would be hard to break and yet she didn’t care. She needed it, this oh so tangible connection with the real world now that everything else in it had turned upside down.

And every day it seemed she needed it more.

It was his voice that drew her attention the most. Oh his body was a fine thing to behold but it wasn’t what she was looking for. It was that slight twist of an accent, the rich huskiness that had always made her knees wobble a little bit when _he_ spoke.

His voice was gentle as he laughed over his old life with her, trying to keep her mind off more unpleasant memories. She responded in kind, delighted in the way he smiled with all his teeth and his eyes crinkling in the corners. Like _his_ had.

She surprises herself one day when they are walking by boldly dancing on tiptoe and pressing a kiss to his cheek. She surprises him too and he asks what the previous affection was for.

‘To say thank you.’

She begins to say thank you more often. He doesn’t exactly seem uncomfortable with the situation but he’s certainly more and more wary around her the more she does it. One day she asks him to watch her son and he obliges but is hesitant to take control of the situation the way _he_ did. The resulting scene involving her son wailing and him rocking the cradle, utterly befuddled as to whether he should pick the baby up or not is almost enough to annoy her. But when she remembers how she’d hated the way _he_ used to take over, she softens towards his plight and shows him a trick or two. He’ll get used to it in time.

She starts asking him to sing nursery rhymes and after much protesting, he finally indulges her this small favour, his voice creaky with nerves. He’s self conscious about things that _he_ never was but as long as he keeps singing she’ll be happy. She tells him to talk, just talk, about anything, and listens with her eyes shut.

Sometimes she can almost imagine that it’s _him_ talking - and not him.

They star gaze and she tells him everything she knows about them and offers to do his chart. He laughs knowingly when she tells him all about himself – she’s spot on every time.

‘So it’s not just a bunch of random hokum pokum then eh?’

‘Of course not!’ She grins and nudges him in the ribs and he smiles back.

The day she kisses him he panics.

‘I can’t…’

‘Yes you can,’ she murmurs against his lips. ‘Just try. Please?’

Reluctantly he begins to return the kiss, chaste and awkward at first but then he seems to forget himself and brings her to life again with an unexpected spark of passion.

She gasps against him as his hand moves to grip her shoulder – despite his tentative reluctance she can feel that he’s craving a connection as much as she is. Flesh on flesh – the sand is shifting beneath her as he leans over and ravages her mouth, pulling at the delicate skin of her lower lip with his teeth.

‘Oh!’

‘Am I hurting you?’ he breathes. ‘Claire?’

‘Say my name again!’ She whispers, her voice hissing into his ear.

‘What?’

‘ _Say my name again._ ’

‘Claire...’

‘Oh…’

His breathing becomes clipped and anxious as she twists her hands around his shirt collar, pulling his lips back to hers for a deeper kiss. Things are starting to get serious now, hands moving to places they shouldn’t be and lips pressing urgently against raw, flushed skin and he says her name again, his accent rolling over the vowels like a wave.

‘Claire…’

‘Oh… oh Charlie…’

At the sound of the name he freezes and an instant later her insides dissolve when she realises what she’s just said.

‘Oh my god...I-I didn’t…oh my…’

He pulls away from her roughly and turns his eyes to the sea.

‘We can’t. _I_ can’t.’

She just sits there, mortified, as he shakes his head and then turns back to her, his eyes full of guilt.

‘There’s someone else. There’s always been someone else. I couldn’t bear it if she ever found out that I…’ he shakes his head again and stands. ‘I can’t Claire, I’m sorry.’

When he walks away she buries her face into shaking hands and sobs quietly for a long time.

He had kissed her the way _he_ used to – just the right amount of hesitancy mixed with a quiet, unfulfilled passion. Which was all well and good for physical gratification but there had been something missing that was all too clear.

Love.

Eventually she relieves her tears and then her babysitter and she puts her son down for the night. She feels numb, like she’s catching a chill although the weather is pleasant. It’s almost humid but not quite.

That night she dreams of _him_ for the first time since _he_ left. He holds her in his arms tenderly and rocks her from side to side, murmuring words that she can’t quite articulate but which seem to create a soft melody that threatens to dissipate the roughness of his voice.

She wakes up suddenly, crying out and before long there is someone beside her, worried but trying hard to be distant so as not to provoke a re-enactment of a previous scene between them.

The hollow space inside her where her love for _him_ once resided stretches infinitely until it threatens to swallow the man beside her whole.

She knows now. She understands.

Nobody is ever going to be able to fill that internal void – not with the way it yawns inside her like an endless chasm. She begins to rationalise her thoughts in relation to her feelings and comes to the conclusion that nobody will ever make up for the love that she has lost – Charlie was far too rare to ever be replaced.

But for a moment, as Desmond murmurs words of comfort to her in a brogue so familiar it aches, Claire loses herself in the timbre of his voice and pretends that she can.


End file.
